


Hornblower Book Illustrations

by panaManga



Category: Hornblower (TV), Hornblower - C. S. Forester
Genre: Adventure, Age of Sail, Comedy, Comic, Fluff, Gen, Hornblower Bookverse - Freeform, Illustration, Romance, cartoon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 09:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8396593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panaManga/pseuds/panaManga
Summary: My collection of illustrations and cartoons that I make for the "Hornblower" book series, and with the settings and faces of the TV series.





	1. Mr Midshipman Hornblower

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: The "Hornblower" stories and characters belong to C. S. Forester and the creators of the "Hornblower" TV series. I don't earn any money with this.
> 
> I usually pick a part/scene from the book that I like and draw an illustration about it, though I take some liberties with the interpretation of the scene.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/120546574@N04/30567765186/in/dateposted-public/)

_It was like the games Hornblower had played as a lonely little boy, when he had sat in the empty pig-trough and pretended he was cast away in an open boat. Then he had parcelled out the bit of bread or whatever it was which he had obtained from the kitchen into a dozen rations, counting them carefully, each one to last a day. But a small boy's eager appetite had made those days very short, not more than five minutes long; after standing up in the pig-trough and shading his eyes and looking round the horizon for the succour that he could not discover, he would sit down again, tell himself that the life of a castaway was hard, and then decide that another night had passed and that it was time to eat another ration from his dwindling supply."_ (Chapter 3 - The Penalty Of Failure)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/120546574@N04/30516078191/in/dateposted-public/)

_Midshipman Hornblower was walking the lee side of the quarterdeck, as became his lowly station as the junior officer of the watch, in the afternoon, when Midshipman Kennedy approached him. Kennedy took off his hat with a flourish and bowed low as his dancing master had once taught him, left foot advanced, hat down by the right knee. Hornblower entered into the spirit of the game, laid his hat against his stomach, and bent himself in the middle three times in quick succession. Thanks to his physical awkwardness he could parody ceremonial solemnity almost without trying."_ (Chapter 4 - The Man Who Felt Queer)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/120546574@N04/29970429713/in/dateposted-public/)

_"I'll send the guns and a load of ammunition first," said Bolton. "But I'll see he gets it soon. Now off you go." Hornblower dubiously approached the roan horse. All he knew about riding he had learned in farmyards, but he got his foot up into the stirrup and climbed in the saddle, grabbing nervously at the reins as the animal started to move off. I seemed as far down to the ground from there as it did from the maintopgallant yard. Pouzauges wheeled his horse about and started up the beach, and the roan followed its example with Hornblower hanging on desperately, spattered by the mud thrown up by the French horse's heels._ (Chapter 6 - The Frogs And The Lobsters)


	2. Lieutenant Hornblower

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/120546574@N04/30304277720/in/dateposted-public/)

_Hornblower took his seat on the cot again and tried to think, swaying with the motion of the ship. There was money that would make him rich for life. There was information which, if given to the government, would clutter every gallows in Ireland. Struck by a sudden thought, he put everything back into the chest and closed the lid._ (Hornblower And The Widow McCool)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/120546574@N04/30304276060/in/dateposted-public/)

_The duplicity — play acting — of the young lieutenant aroused a momentary suspicion in Bush's mind. A man who could assume an appearance of wrath and abandon it again with so much facility was not to be trusted. Then, with an inevitable reaction, the twinkle in the brown eyes called up a responsive twinkle in Bush's frank blue eyes, and he felt a friendly impulse towards Hornblower, but Bush was innately cautious and checked the impulse at once, for there was a long voyage ahead of them and plenty of time for a more considered judgment. Meanwhile he was conscious of a keen scrutiny, and he could see that a question was imminent — and even Bush could guess what it would be._ (Chapter I)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/120546574@N04/31260754291/in/dateposted-public/)

_Bush and Hornblower stood side by side on the poop, feet wide apart on the heaving deck, as they steadied themselves and looked through their sextants at the horizon. Through the darkened glass Bush could see the image of the sun reflected from the mirror. With infinite pains he moved the arm round, bringing the image down closer and closer to the horizon. The pitch of the ship over the long blue rollers troubled him, but he persevered, decided in the end that the image of the sun was just sitting on the horizon, and clamped the sextant. Then he could read and record the measurement. As a concession to newfangled prejudices, he decided to follow Hornblower's example and observe the altitude also from the opposite point of the horizon. He swung round and did so, and as he recorded this reading he tried to remember what he had to do abouthalf the difference between the two readings. And the index error, and the 'dip'. He looked round to find that Hornblower had already finished his observation and was standing waiting for him._  
_"That's the greatest altitude I've ever measured," remarked Hornblower. "I've never been as far south as this before. What's your result?"_  
_They compared readings._  
_"That's accurate enough," said Hornblower. "What's the difficulty?"_  
_"Oh, I can shoot the sun," said Bush. "No trouble about that. It's the calculations that bother me — those damned corrections."_  
_Hornblower raised an eyebrow for a moment. He was accustomed to taking his own observations each noon and making his own calculations of the ship's position, in order to keep himself in practice. He was aware of the mechanical difficulty of taking an accurate observation in a moving ship, but — although he knew plenty of other instances he still could not believe that any man could really find the subsequent mathematics difficult. They were so simple to him that when Bush had asked him if he could join him in their noontime exercise for the sake of improving himself he had taken it for granted that it was only the mechanics of using a sextant that troubled Bush. But he politely concealed his surprise._  
_"They're easy enough," he said, and then he added "sir." A wise officer, too, did not make too much display of his superior ability when speaking to his senior. He phrased his next speech carefully. "If you were to come below with me, sir, you could check through my calculations."_ (Chapter V) _  
_

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/120546574@N04/31371039830/in/dateposted-public/)

_"Now we can plot the position," said Hornblower, bending over the chart._  
_Bush watched as Hornblower's capable fingers worked the parallel rulers across the chart; Hornblower had long bony hands with something of beauty about them, and it was actually fascinating to watch them doing work at which they were so supremely competent. The powerful fingers picked up the pencil and ruled a line._  
_"There's the point of interception," said Hornblower. "Now we can check against the dead reckoning."_  
_Even Bush could follow the simple steps necessary to plot the ship's course by dead reckoning since noon yesterday. The pencil in the steady fingers made a tiny x on the chart._ (Chapter V)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/120546574@N04/32113849901/in/dateposted-public/)

_Hornblower was as good as his word; it was only two minutes before he returned, but now he was naked except for a towel draped sketchily round him. This was all very strange._  
_"Give way," he said to the men at the pump handles._  
_They were dubious about all this, but they obeyed the order, and in alternate pairs they threw their weight upon the handles. Up — down, up — down; clank — clank. The seaman holding the hose felt it stir in his hands as the water from far overside came surging up along it; and next moment a clear stream of water came gushing out of it._  
_"Turn it on me," said Hornblower, casting his towel aside and standing naked in the sunshine. The hoseman hesitated._  
_"Hurry up, now!"_  
_As dubiously as ever the hoseman obeyed orders, turning the jet upon his officer, who rotated first this way and then that as it splashed upon him; an amused crowd was gathering to watch._  
_"Pump, you sons of seacooks!" said Hornblower; and obediently the men at the pump handles, now grinning broadly, threw all their weight on the handles, with such enthusiasm that their feet left the deck as they hauled down upon them and the clear water came hurtling out through the hose with considerable force. Hornblower twirled round and round under the stinging impact, his face screwed up in painful ecstasy. Buckland had been standing aft at the taffrail, lost in thought and gazing down at the ship's wake, but the clanking of the pump attracted his attention and he strolled forward to join Roberts and Bush and to look at the strange spectacle._  
_"Hornblower has some odd fancies," he remarked, but he smiled as he said it — a rather pathetic smile, for his face bore the marks of the anxieties he was going through._  
_"He seems to be enjoying himself, sir," said Bush._  
_Bush, looking at Hornblower revolving under the sparkling stream, was conscious of a prickling under his shirt in his heavy uniform coat, and actually had the feeling that it might be pleasurable to indulge in that sort of shower bath, however injurious it might be to the health._  
_"'Vast pumping!" yelled Hornblower. "Avast, there!"_  
_The hands at the pumps ceased their labours, and the jet from the hose died away to a trickle, to nothing._  
_"Captain of the waist! Secure the pump. Get the deck swabbed."_  
_"Aye aye, sir." Hornblower grabbed his towel and came trotting back along the maindeck. He looked up at the group of officers with a grin which revealed his exhilaration and high spirits._  
_"Dunno if it's good for discipline," commented Roberts, as Hornblower disappeared; and then, with a tardy flash of insight, "I suppose it's all right."_  
_"I suppose so," said Buckland. "Let's hope he doesn't get himself a fever, checking the perspiration like that."_  
_"He showed no sign of one, sir," said Bush; lingering in Bush's mind's eye was the picture of Hornblower's grin._ (Chapter VI) _  
_

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/120546574@N04/32390215770/in/dateposted-public/)

_Time went on without either the second lieutenant or the surgeon reappearing. Smith, under his arm the telescope that was the badge of his temporary office, touched his hat to Hornblower and prepared to relieve him as officer of the watch as the second dogwatch was called. In the east the sky was turning dark, and the sun was setting over the starboard quarter in a magnificent display of red and gold; from the ship towards the sun the surface of the sea was gilded and glittering, but close overside it was the richest purple. A flying fish broke the surface and went skimming along, leaving a transient, momentary furrow behind it like a grove in enamel._  
_"Look at that!" exclaimed Hornblower to Bush._  
_"A flying fish," said Bush, indifferently._  
_"Yes! There's another!" Hornblower leaned over to get a better view._  
_"You'll see plenty of them before this voyage is over," said Bush._  
_"But I've never seen one before."_  
_The play of expression on Hornblower's face was curious. One moment he was full of eager interest; the next he assumed an appearance of stolid indifference, as a man might pull on a glove. His service at sea so far, varied though it might be, had been confined to European waters; years of dangerous activity on the French and Spanish coasts in a frigate, two years in the Renown in the Channel fleet, and he had been eagerly looking forward to the novelties he would encounter in tropical waters. But he was talking to a man to whom these things were no novelty, and who evinced no excitement at the sight of the first flying fish of the voyage. Hornblower was not going to be outdone in stolidity and self-control; if the wonders of the deep failed to move Bush they were not going to evoke any childish excitement in Hornblower, at least any apparent excitement if Hornblower could suppress it. He was a veteran, and he was not going to appear like a raw hand._ (Chapter VI)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/120546574@N04/33393053662/in/dateposted-public/)

_"Who will be in command?" asked Buckland. It could only be a rhetorical question; nobody except Buckland could possibly supply the answer, and to Bush and Hornblower this was obvious. They could only wait._  
_"It'd be poor Roberts' duty if he had lived," said Buckland, and then he turned to look at Bush._  
_"Mr Bush, you will take command."_  
_"Aye aye, sir."_  
_Bush got up from his chair and stood with his head bowed uneasily under the deck timbers above._  
_"Who do you want to take with you?"_  
_Hornblower had been on his feet during the whole interview; now he shifted his weight self-consciously from one foot to the other._  
_"Do you require me any more, sir?" he said to Buckland._  
_Bush could not tell by looking at him what emotions were at work in him; he had the pose merely of a respectful, attentive officer. Bush thought about Smith, the remaining lieutenant in the shin. He thought about Whiting, the captain of marines, who would certainly have to take part in the landing. There were midshipmen_  
_and master's mates to be used as subordinate officers. He was going to be responsible for a risky and desperate operation of war — now it was his own credit, as well as Buckland's, that was at stake. Whom did he want at his side at this, one of the most important moments in his career? Another lieutenant, if he asked for_  
_one, would be second in command, might expect to have a voice in the decisions to be made._  
_"Do we need Mr Hornblower any more, Mr Bush?" asked Buckland._  
_Hornblower would be an active subordinate in command. A restless one, would be another way of expressing it. He would be apt to criticise, in thought at least. Bush did not think he cared to exercise command with Hornblower listening to his every order. This whole internal debate of Bush's did not take definite shape, with formal arguments pro and con; it was rather a conflict of prejudices and instincts, the result of years of experience, which Bush could never have expressed in words. He decided he needed neither Hornblower nor Smith at the moment before he looked again at Hornblower's face. Hornblower was trying to remain_  
_impassive; but Bush could see, with sympathetic insight, how desperately anxious he was to be invited to join in the expedition. Any officer would want to go, of course, would yearn to be given an opportunity to distinguish himself, but actuating Hornblower was some motive more urgent than this Hornblower's hands_  
_were at his sides, in the 'attention' position, but Bush noticed how the long fingers tapped against his thighs,_  
_restrained themselves, and then tapped again uncontrollably. It was not cool judgment that finally brought Bush to his decision, but something quite otherwise. It might be called kindliness; it might be called affection. He had grown fond of this volatile, versatile young man, and he had no doubts now as to his physical courage._  
_"I'd like Mr Hornblower to come with me, sir," he said; it seemed almost without his volition that the words came from his mouth; a softhearted elder brother might have said much the same thing, burdening himself with the presence of a much younger brother out of kindness of heart when contemplating some pleasant_  
_day's activities._  
_And as he spoke he received a glance in return from Hornblower that stifled at birth any regrets he may have felt at allowing his sentiments to influence his judgment. There was so much of relief, so much of gratitude, in the way Hornblower looked at him that Bush experienced a kindly glow of magnanimity; he felt a bigger and better man for what he had done. Naturally he did not for a moment see anything incongruous about Hornblower's being grateful for a decision that would put him in peril of his life._ (Chapter VIII)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/120546574@N04/33570263513/in/dateposted-public/)

_Hornblower stood in the sunshine, already far too hot to be comfortable. His face was pale, dirty and bearded, and in his expression eagerness and weariness were oddly at war._  
_"Have you had any breakfast yet?" asked Bush._  
_"No, sir." Hornblower looked straight at him. "Neither have you, sir."_  
_"No," grinned Bush._  
_He had not been able to spare a moment for anything like that, with the whole defence of the fort to be organised. But he could bear fatigue and hunger and thirst, and he doubted if Hornblower could._  
_"I'll get a drink of water at the well, sir," said Hornblower._  
_As he said the words, and the full import came to him, a change in his expression was quite obvious. He ran the tip of his tongue over his lips; Bush could see that the lips were cracked and parched and that the tongue could do nothing to relieve them. The man had drunk nothing since he had landed twelve hours ago — twelve hours of desperate exertion in a tropical climate._  
_"See that you do, Mr Hornblower," said Bush. "That's an order."_  
_"Aye aye, sir."_  
_Bush found the telescope leaving his hand and passing into Hornblower's._  
_"May I have another look, sir, before I go down? By George, I thought as much. That two-master's warping out, sir. Less than an hour before she's within range. I'll get the guns manned, sir. Take a look for yourself, sir."_  
_He went darting down the stone stairs of the tower, having given back the telescope, but half way down he paused._  
_"Don't forget your breakfast, sir," he said, his face upturned to Bush. "You've plenty of time for that."_  
_Bush's glance through the telescope confirmed what Hornblower had said. At least one of the vessels up the bay was beginning to move. He turned and swept the rest of the land and water with a precautionary glance before handing the telescope to Abbott, who during all this conversation had been standing by, silent in the presence of his betters._  
_"Keep a sharp lookout," said Bush._  
_Down in the body of the fort Hornblower was already issuing rapid orders, and the men, roused to activity, were on the move. On the gun platform they were casting loose the remaining guns, and as Bush descended from the platform he saw Hornblower organising other working parties, snapping out orders with quick gestures. At the sight of Bush he turned guiltily and walked over to the well. A marine was winding up the bucket, and Hornblower seized it. He raised the bucket to his lips, leaning back to balance the weight; and he drank and drank, water slopping in quantities over his chest as he drank, water pouring over his face, until the bucket was empty, and then he put it down with a grin at Bush, his face still dripping water. The very sight of him was enough to make Bush, who had already had one drink from the well, feel consumed with thirst all over again._ (Chapter X) _  
_

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/120546574@N04/35386732625/in/dateposted-public/)

_But the madness ebbed away. He found himself leaning — hiding himself, it might almost be said — beside one of the maindeck eighteen-pounders, forgotten for the moment, his sword still in his hand, trying with a slow brain to take stock of his situation. Mental pictures moved slowly across his mind's eye. He could not doubt that some members of the ship's company had risked the ship for the sake of their lust. There had been no bargaining: none of the women had sold themselves in exchange for a betrayal. But he could guess that the women had seemed complacent, that some of the guards had neglected their duty to take advantage of such an opportunity. Then there would be a slow seepage of prisoners out of confinement, probably the officers from out of the midshipmen's berth, and then the sudden well-planned uprising. A torrent of prisoners pouring up, the sentries overwhelmed, the arms seized; the watch below, asleep in their hammocks and incapable of resistance, driven like sheep in a mass forward, herded into a crowd against the bulkhead and restrained there by an armed party while other parties secured the officers aft, and, surging on to the maindeck, captured or slew every man there. All about the ship now there must still be little groups of seamen and marines still free like himself, but weaponless and demoralized; with the coming of daylight the Spaniards would reorganise themselves and would hunt through the ship and destroy any further resistance piecemeal, group by group. It was unbelievable that such a thing could have happened, and yet it had. Four hundred disciplined and desperate men, reckless of their lives and guided by brave officers, might achieve much.  
There were orders — Spanish orders — being shouted about the deck now. The ship had come up into the wind all aback when the quartermaster at the wheel had been overwhelmed, and she was wallowing in the trough of the waves, now coming up, now falling off again, with the canvas overhead all flapping and thundering. There were Spanish sea officers — those of the prizes — on board. They would be able to bring the ship under control in a few minutes. Even with a crew of landsmen they would be able to brace the yards, man the wheel, and set a course close-hauled up the Jamaica Channel. Beyond, only a long day's run, lay Santiago. Now there was the faintest, tiniest light in the sky. Morning — the awful morning — was about to break. Bush took a fresh grip of his sword hilt; his head was swimming and he passed his forearm over his face to wipe away the cobwebs that seemed to be gathering over his eyes.  
And then, pale but silhouetted against the sky on the other side of the ship, he saw the topsail of another vessel moving slowly forward along the ship's side; masts, yards, rigging; another topsail slowly turning. There were wild shouts and yells from the _ Renown _, a grinding crash as the two ships came together. An agonising pause, like the moment before a roller breaks upon the shore. And then up over the bulwarks of the_ Renown _appeared the heads and shoulders of men; the shakos of marines, the cold glitter of bayonets and cutlasses. There was Hornblower, hatless, swinging his leg over and leaping down to the deck, sword in hand, the others leaping with him on either hand. Weak and faint as he was, Bush still could think clearly enough to realise that Hornblower must have collected the prize crews from all three vessels before running alongside in the_ Gaditana _; by Bush's calculation he could have brought thirty seamen and thirty marines to his attack. But while one part of Bush's brain could think with this clarity and logic, the other part of it seemed to be hampered and clogged so that what went on before his eyes moved with nightmare slowness. It might have been a slow-order drill, as the boarding party climbed down on the deck. Everything was changed and unreal. The shouts of the Spaniards might have been the shrill cries of little children at play. Bush saw the muskets levelled and fired, but the irregular volley sounded in his ears no louder than popguns. The charge was sweeping the deck; Bush tried to spring forward to join with it but his legs strangely would not move. He found himself lying on the deck and his arms had no strength when he tried to lift himself up._  
_He saw the ferocious bloody battle that was waged, a fight as wild and as irregular as the one that had preceded it, when little groups of men seemed to appear from nowhere and fling themselves into the struggle, sometimes on this side and sometimes on that. Now came another surge of men, nearly naked seamen with Silk at their head; Silk was Swinging the rammer of a gun, a vast unwieldy weapon with which he struck out right and left at the Spaniards who broke before them. Another swirl and eddy in the fight; a Spanish soldier trying to run, limping, with a wounded thigh, and a British seaman with a boarding pike in pursuit, stabbing the wretched man under the ribs and leaving him moving feebly in the blood that poured from him._  
_Now the maindeck was clear save for the corpses that lay heaped upon it, although below decks he could hear the fight going on, shots and screams and crashes. It all seemed to die away. This weakness was not exactly pleasant. To allow himself to put his head down on his arm and forget his responsibilities might seem tempting, but just over the horizon of his conscious mind there were hideous nightmare things waiting to spring out on him, of which he was frightened, but it made him weaker still to struggle against them. But his head was down on his arm, and it was a tremendous effort to lift it again; later it was a worse effort still, but he tried to force himself to make it, to rise and deal with all the things that must be done. Now there was a hard voice speaking, painful to his ears._  
_"This 'ere's Mr Bush, sir. 'Ere 'e is!"_  
_Hands were lifting his head. The sunshine was agonising as it poured into his eyes, and he closed his eyelids tight to keep it out._  
_"Bush! Bush!" That was Hornblower's voice, pleading and tender. "Bush, please, speak to me."_  
_Two gentle hands were holding his face between them. Bush could just separate his eyelids sufficiently to see Hornblower bending over him, but to speak called for more strength than he possessed. He could only shake his head a little, smiling because of the sense of comfort and security conveyed by Hornblower's hands._   (Chapter XIV)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/120546574@N04/36072682286/in/dateposted-public/)

_"Captain Cogshill to inspect you," he said._  
_"Here he is, sir." Cogshill looked down at Bush upon the bed._  
_"Doctor Sankey gives me the good news that you are recovering rapidly," he said._  
_"I think I am, sir."_  
_"The admiral has ordered a court of inquiry, and I am nominated a member of the court. Naturally your evidence will be required, Mr Bush, and it is my duty to ascertain how soon you will be able to give it." Bush felt a little wave of apprehension ripple over him. A court of inquiry was only a shade less terrifying than the court-martial to which it might lead. Even with a conscience absolutely clear Bush would rather — far rather — handle a ship on a lee shore in a gale than face questions and have to give answers, submit his motives to analysis and misconstruction, and struggle against the entanglements of legal forms. But it was medicine that had to be swallowed, and the sensible thing was to hold his nose and gulp it down, however nauseating._  
_"I'm ready at any time, sir."_  
_"Tomorrow I shall take out the sutures, sir," interposed Sankey. "You will observe that Mr Bush is still weak. He was entirely exsanguinated by his wounds."_  
_"What do you mean by that?"_  
_"I mean he was drained of his blood. And the ordeal of taking out the sutures —"_  
_"The stitches, do you mean?"_  
_"The stitches, sir. The ordeal of removing them may momentarily retard Mr Bush's recovery of his strength. But if the court will indulge him with a chair when he gives his evidence —"_  
_"That can certainly be granted."_  
_"Then in three days from now he can answer any necessary questions."_  
_"Next Friday, then?"_  
_"Yes, sir. That is the earliest. I could wish it would be later."_  
_"To assemble a court on this station," explained Cogshill with his cold courtesy, "is not easy, when every ship is away on necessary duty so much of the time. Next Friday will be convenient."_  
_"Yes, sir," said Sankey._  
_It was some sort of gratification to Bush, who had endured so much of Sankey's chatter, to see him almost subdued in his manner when addressing someone as eminent as a captain._  
_"Very well, then," said Cogshill. He bowed to Bush. "I wish you the quickest of recoveries."_  
_"Thank you, sir," said Bush._  
_Even lying on his back he could not check the instinctive attempt to return the bow, but his wounds hurt him when he started to double up in the middle and prevented him from appearing ridiculous. With Cogshill gone Bush had time to worry about the future; the fear of it haunted him a little even while he ate his dinner, but the lob-lolly boy who came to take away the remains ushered in another visitor, the sight of whom drove away the black thoughts. It was Hornblower, standing at the door with a basket in his hand, and Bush's face lit up at the sight of him._  
_"How are you, sir?" asked Homblower._  
_They shook hands, each reflecting the pleasure of the others greeting._  
_"All the better for seeing you," said Bush, and meant it._  
_"This is my first chance of coming ashore," said Hornblower. "You can guess that I've been kept busy."_  
_Bush could guess easily enough; it was no trouble to him to visualise all the duties that had been heaped on Hornblower, the necessity to complete Renown again with powder and shot, food and water, to clean up the ship after the prisoners had been removed, to eradicate the traces of the recent fighting, to attend to the formalities connected with the disposal of the prizes, the wounded, the sick, and the effects of the dead. And Bush was eager to hear the details, as a housewife might be when illness had removed her from the supervision of her household. He plied Hornblower with questions, and the technical discussion that ensued prevented Hornblower for some time from indicating the basket he had brought._  
_"Pawpaws," he said. "Mangoes. A pineapple. That's only the second pineapple I've ever seen."_  
_"Thank you. Very kind of you," said Bush. But it was utterly beyond possibility that he could give the least hint of the feeling that the gift evoked in him, that after lying lonely for these days in the hospital he should find that someone cared about him — that in any case someone should give him so much as a thought. The words he spoke were limping and quite inadequate, and only a sensitive and sympathetic mind could guess at the feelings which the words concealed rather than expressed. But he was saved from further embarrassment by Hornblower abruptly introducing a new subject._ (Chapter XV) _  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put the illustration for the scene from "Hornblower and the Widow McCool" into this chapter because Hornblower was already a lieutenant on the "Renown", and I didn't want to make an extra chapter for it.
> 
> UPDATE 02.12.2016: The illustration about the calculations is my worst so far, I'm so sorry...
> 
> UPDATE19.12.2016: I really hope my drawings about Hornblower's hands look appropriate enough.


End file.
